


Wild Hunt

by linndechir



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Breathplay, Consent Play, M/M, PWP, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celegorm tracks Curufin through the woods, and they both know what he'll do once he finds him. And for all that he's running, Curufin is counting on just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaydreamBelieversDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaydreamBelieversDaughter/gifts).



> Everything happening in this fic is fully consensual, but there's no discussion of the consent play going on in the fic itself. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this fic, dear recip. :)

Over time Celegorm had grown used to hunting with Huan by his side, but even without the great hound – curled up with Moryo in the gardens at home, if he was still where Celegorm had left him – it was easy to track his brother. Curufin had always been more at home in the forge than in the forest, his hands on steel and gems more nimble than his feet on moist soil and fallen branches. He had tried to cover his tracks – once or twice Celegorm almost lost his trail – but what tricks Curufin knew he had learnt from his elder brother and Celegorm followed his steps no less easily than he had when Curufin had been but a child. They'd already played this game then – Curvo sneaking out of the house, knowing that Celegorm would come find him, track him through the woods and the meadows like an elusive deer.

What had changed were the games they played once Celegorm found him.

He took a small detour when he reached the Southern edge of the small forest near their home, a forest Celegorm knew inside and out, every tree, every bush, every animal that lived in it. The smallest details told him where his brother had been, and it was almost too easy to cut through the thicket and wait ahead for Curufin. A smile of anticipation flashed over his face when he finally saw Curvo, clad in dark hunting garb. He smiled even more when he saw the necklace his brother was wearing that day – a choker made of exquisite leather, smooth against his skin so it wouldn't get caught in anything, adorned with several large rubies. Curufin's own work, Celegorm knew, not their father's.

For all his silence he was almost sure that Curufin still heard him approach – he pretended not to, but there was a tell-tale turn of the head at the very last moment, a slight narrowing of his grey eyes and a twitch of his right hand just before Celegorm grabbed him from behind, one arm tight around Curufin's throat, the other grabbing his wrist before he could go for his knife.

Celegorm pressed his face against his brother's neck, the intricate braids of his black hair. Curufin always smelt like father, that hint of smoke from the forge that seemed to cling to both of them wherever they went. But after hours in the woods he also smelt of the wilderness, of leaves and bark and the fruits he had eaten. Celegorm breathed him in like a lion would the scent of blood steaming up from its wounded prey.

His brother had gone still at first, but now he tensed up like a bowstring as if he wanted to wriggle free, and Celegorm only tightened his grip. His forearm pressed against Curufin's throat, not quite choking him, merely making it a little bit harder to breathe. He knew Curufin's body like his own, knew that his brother loved the threat of pain far more than pain itself.

“There.” Celegorm's lips brushed the shell of Curufin's ear. “Did nobody ever tell you not to run through the woods all on your own? There are wolves and bears, leopards and panthers, and eagles swooping down from the sky.”

Back when Curufin had been a boy, Celegorm already used to say those same things to him. Back when Curufin had been a boy, he'd picked him up when he caught him, tickled him and thrown him over his shoulder to carry him back home, while Curvo tried to pout even as he was laughing.

But they weren't children anymore, and Celegorm shoved his brother against the next tree, letting go of Curufin's wrist at the last moment so he could brace himself. He still remembered the one time Curvo had scratched his cheek open on the bark; he'd kept complaining about his face being ruined until the last scratch was healed, and of course Father had indulged him even more than usual.

“Only children fear such things,” Curufin said haughtily, but he didn't sound as composed as he must have wanted to, not with his breathing laboured. He tried to struggle again, gasped when Celegorm dug his fingers into his brother's hip.

“There are other things to be feared in these woods. I thought you knew that by now,” Celegorm mumbled, nosing at the soft skin behind Curufin's ear. “Yet you keep coming back … I might almost start to think you like being found.”

Curufin's breeches were easy to open, even with one hand, wide enough that Celegorm could yank them down without having to let go of Curufin's neck. He'd never lived down the time he'd ripped Curufin's favourite hunting garb either, and ever since his brother made sure to dress for the occasion A soft whimper escaped Curufin's lips as cool air brushed over exposed skin, and again when Celegorm pushed his tunic up as well. 

“Do you like being found, little brother?” Celegorm pressed on, let his teeth graze over Curufin's pale neck. “Do you like what I do to you when I find you?”

The last word ended in a yelp when Curvo turned his head and bit his forearm – not wanting Celegorm to hurt him had never stopped Curufin from being rather vicious himself, but Celegorm loved even that, loved the sharp sting of pain that only made him grind harder against his brother.

“Let me go and I'll show you what I like,” Curufin said, his voice low and threatening. There were days when Celegorm would do just that – let Curvo push him onto the forest ground and straddle him, a curved knife pressed against Celegorm's throat, a snarled order to keep his hands above his head while Curufin rode him hard like an unruly horse.

But it wasn't what Celegorm wanted now – wasn't what Curufin truly wanted either or he'd be struggling harder, biting him again, going for that wicked knife on his hip that had broken Celegorm's skin more than once during their games. Instead his squirming seemed perfunctory, more about rubbing back against his brother than about getting away from him, even as he snarled again, “Let me go!”

Celegorm bit Curufin's neck again, harder this time, hard enough to leave a mark right below the leather that adorned his throat, not caring who would see it later that day. His body kept Curufin pinned against the tree, and even if Curufin had struggled harder Celegorm's strength and height would have kept him firmly in place.

“Don't you ever listen to me when I try to teach you something?” he said, conversationally if his own breath wasn't hitching already, more so as he started to free himself from his breeches, the tip of his cock sliding over smooth skin. “Predators only hold on tighter when you struggle.”

“So you'd let me go if I held still?” Curufin asked, and Celegorm laughed softly. He wanted to kiss his brother's cheeky mouth, wanted to bite his lips until they were swollen and hot, but that would have to wait until later. 

“Now that would just be dull,” he said quietly, still smiling against Curufin's skin as a small shudder went through his brother's body.

They never took their time with this game, or at least not once they had reached this particular stage. Celegorm had spent hours tracking Curufin down and that was enough anticipation for both of them, the thrill of the chase heating his blood every bit as much as Curufin's impatient growls did. Sometimes he imagined teasing him, but he rarely had the patience left for that by the time he had Curvo like this.

So he slicked himself up as quickly as he could, didn't bother to do more than that before he started pushing into Curvo – his brother hissed angrily, swore under his breath and dug his fingers into the bark, but Celegorm knew he could take this, knew he wanted to, that he would have complained much more about Celegorm's fingers.

Once he was inside him he wrapped his arm around Curufin's neck again, just tight enough to make him gasp and shudder and push back against Celegorm every time his grip tightened. Celegorm buried his face against his brother's neck, breathing him in and listening to every angry hiss and every needy moan, lost himself in the feeling of Curufin around him, Curufin's fingers digging into his forearm as if to push it away, but really just clinging to him.

Neither of them ever lasted long when they played this game, Curufin coming apart in his arms before Celegorm's hands ever had to venture beneath his waist, Celegorm himself following suit not much later, his own moans muffled against Curufin's hair so he could listen to his brother's breathless gasps. Curufin wasn't struggling anymore now, only leaning against the tree as if his trembling legs couldn't hold him anymore, at least until Celegorm pulled out and turned Curufin in his arms to hold him tight against his chest.

He closed his eyes, his breath slowing as Curufin's hands sneaked under his tunic to caress his sides, as Curufin's lips brushed over his jaw and his chin. When he opened them again, Curufin was smiling up at him, lazy and sated like a snake in the sun, or rather like _he_ was the lion that had hunted down its prey.

Celegorm kissed him then, gently until Curufin's teeth snapped at his bottom lip and Celegorm returned the favour in kind, only to have Curufin break the kiss with another one of those contented, smug smiles. 

“Take me home, Tyelko,” he demanded. Celegorm wouldn't have minded staying there for a bit longer, leading Curufin to the nearby lake and taking him a second time by the shore, but he knew his brother's voice, knew when to follow his demands and when to argue. After a briefer kiss he stepped back, eyes still on Curufin as he readjusted his own clothes. 

“Don't dawdle then,” he said simply and took off. He heard the rustle of clothes, then quick steps before Curufin caught up with him, his shorter legs matching his brother's stride on the uneven ground without any effort, his fingers curling possessively around Celegorm's wrist.

That, too, he'd done since he'd been a child, already sure without a doubt that Celegorm was his.


End file.
